Peninsula enterprise. [volume] (Accomac, Va.) 1881-1965, 1887-01-08
Twelfth Night at HeyWode.

Heywode, albeit in New Jersey,
is as pretty a little village as ever
one might wish to see. Settled long
and long ago by a few English
families, it retains, in the garden
like ncatness of It's surroundings,
in it's hawthorn hodges, in it's purp
lish pink Judas trees, which seem
almost to color the air in the spring
time. and, above all. in its clinging
to old customs a very pleasant re
semblance to the mother country,
mingled agreeably with the more
progressive and liberal features of
the states.
And so, with true regard to ira
dition. Harold Heywode, of Hey
wode, insisted that the Christmas
holidays should take their full
length of festivity and not think of
concluding before Twelfth Night.
Christmas was over, New Years
had passed, Twelfth Night had ar
rived. The evergreens had been
up so long that the house was fra
grant as "a pine forest, cheerful,
open fires burned on the heartlis,
and the old mansion was full OF
company. Merry voices rang
through the wide halls, dancing
feet passed to and fro; if a door
opened a sound of lively music was
heard; aud yet the master of all
this cheer, the envied, admired,
much fattered Harold Heywode,
was standing alone in his own lit.
tie study, gazing gloomily into the
fire with an out.of heart expression
not often seen on his calm face.
Mr.. Heywode was nearly thirty,
gcolloolling and unmarried. Not
only the managing mothers of the
neighborhood glanced friendly wise
in his direction and praised their
amiable daughters, to his endless
amusement, but the fame of his
wealth and excellence was known
far and wide, if not from pole to
pole. Everybody wondered why
he bad not married. why he did not;
marry now; and p.enty OF reasons
were invented to account for this
singular circumstance, some even
going so far as to hint at a secret
marriage or a buried sorrow, the
practical preferring a skeleton in
the poor fellows cupboard and the
romantic content with nothing less
than tangled thread of golden
hair around his hearth
This last theory, may as well
admit, was the right one, and Mr..
Heywode, alone in his house hold
of merrymakers, was thinking Of a
Twelfth Night five years ago when
his parents had entertained just
such another set of light-hearted
guests, and when he, one of the
happiest among them, found the
ring i'll the cake and gave it to
pretty Rosamund Young, who lost
it before the evening was over-a
bad omen which came true. For,
some way, she was never the same
atterward, and while he wanted to
give her another ring in its place,
she would not accept it, but told
him-rudely, unkindly-to carry
his gift to Anna Mari. They had
often met since then; but there had
never been any explanation be.
tween them, and she was now q
guest III his house and enga ged al
last-or so it was said-to (of all
people or her!) the gravest, most
sedate Judge Wesley John, hel
guardian aud her fathers early
friend. She was lovely as ever
more gentle now, and there was
something touching, almost APP
pealing, in her manner when she
spoke to him. Could she regre
those old days7 Was she altogeth-
er happy in her engagement Blu
what NONSENSE! of course she WAC
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